Russia's Propaganda About Crimea Is Right Out Of '1984'

FIREWORKS, concerts, uplifting speeches and patriotic euphoria:
the Kremlin is celebrating the annexation of Crimea as though
Russia had won the second world war (again) rather than grabbing
a piece of land from a smaller and weaker neighbour. The public
seems intoxicated by victory in a war that was begun, conducted
and won largely through propaganda.

Russians have been subjected to an intense, aggressive and blunt
disinformation campaign in which they were bombarded by images of
violence, chaos and fascism in Ukraine, sinister plotting by the
West and evidence of Russia's strength and nobility in response.
The Russian media have always shaped reality as much as they have
reflected it. But in the seizure of Crimea, television played as
much of a leading role as the army. Russian television, widely
watched in Crimea, bolstered the loyalty of the local population
while justifying the Kremlin's actions at home.

The propaganda campaign has seen several stages since the
protests on Kiev's Maidan began, says Lev Gudkov, head of the
Levada Centre, an independent pollster. It portrayed Maidan as a
conspiracy by the West. It showed the protesters as nationalists,
fascists and anti-Semites who had staged a putsch, posing great
danger to Russian-speakers. It faked stories of Ukrainian
refugees fleeing to Russia (using footage of a border crossing
between Ukraine and Poland). The case for taking Crimea, to
defend the Russian population from an imagined threat, morphed
into Russia's reclaiming historic lands. Addressing a crowd in
Red Square, Vladimir Putin boomed: "After a long, hard and
exhausting voyage, Crimea and Sevastopol are returning to their
harbour, to their native shores, to their home port, to Russia!"

Nobody knows how long Mr Putin has been working on the idea of
this homecoming (some say since the 2008 war in Georgia), but the
appointment of Dmitry Kiselev as the face of Russian propaganda
in December last year marks the moment when he began to execute
it. Mr Kiselev's anti-Western and homophobic rhetoric made him a
marginal figure a few years ago. But as the new head of
RIA-Novosti, the state news agency, and an anchor on the state
news channel, he has become one of Mr Putin's key weapons (and is
now subject to European Union sanctions).

Russia's disinformation offensive differs from its Soviet
forebear in both style and intensity. Soviet propagandists had
none of Mr Kiselev's exaltation, sarcasm and theatricality. They
spoke in grave, deliberate tones, drawing on the party's lifelong
wisdom and experience. The new propaganda, exemplified by Mr
Kiselev, seeks to agitate and mobilise the audience, to stir
hatred and fear. Wearing a tight suit, he paces up and down,
gesticulating and accentuating his words, then drilling them home
with a sadistic smile. It is close in style to Orwell's two
minutes' hate, stretched to more than 30.

The propaganda machine is fuelled by a "cocktail of chauvinism,
patriotism and imperialism", says one journalist. It plays on
deep feelings among the Russian public: post-imperial nostalgia
for the Soviet Union, an inferiority complex towards the West,
and a longing for self-justification.

The coverage relies on the scale of lies and the elimination of
other sources of information, says one senior editor. When
Ukraine suspended the broadcasts of Russian state TV channels,
substituting the liberal Dozhd channel that had been cut off by
cable providers in Russia, it was accused by the Kremlin of
suppressing free speech. In Russia the state-controlled media
creates an illusion of uniformity of thought. Many are scared to
voice their opinions not because they may be punished, but
because they may be isolated. Any dissenter is described by Mr
Putin as a "fifth columnist" and a "national traitor".

On March 24th the Kremlin made an example of Andrei Zubov, a
Russian historian, who was among the first to draw parallels
between Russia's occupation of Crimea and the annexation of
Austria and Sudetenland territories in 1938-39. He was fired from
his teaching position at the Moscow State Institute of
International Relations, patronised by the foreign ministry. Mr
Zubov's articles and interviews, the institute said, "contradict
Russia's foreign policy and inflict careless, irresponsible
criticism on the actions of the state, thus causing damage to the
teaching and educational process." In an article in Vedomosti on
March 1st, Mr Zubov had cited a speech by Hitler that was
strikingly similar to the rhetoric used by Mr Putin when he
addressed the nation about the annexation of Crimea. As Vedomosti
commented in an editorial, the sacking merely confirms the
accuracy of Mr Zubov's parallels.

Russia's annexation of Crimea has lifted Mr Putin's approval
rating to 80%, up from 65% in January. The number of people
wishing to see him re-elected has risen from 32% to 46%,
according to Levada, the highest figure since the 2008 Georgian
war. The question is how long such ratings will last. Trumpeting
Russia's moral superiority, the Kremlin is preparing ordinary
Russians for an economic downturn that it will no doubt blame on
America. Yet Mr Gudkov argues that, although most Russians
support Mr Putin's actions, they are not prepared to take
responsibility or bear significant costs in lives or money.
"Televisionwatching does not imply participation," says Mr
Gudkov. That gives some hope that Russia may not go farther into
eastern Ukraine.

Yet patriotic hysteria and jingoism may have reached such levels
that any de-escalation by Mr Putin would seem like a defeat. The
danger is that he starts to believe his own propaganda and
pursues its logic towards renewed confrontation. Ominously, the
Kremlin appears to believe that Western sanctions so far leave it
room for further adventurism.